THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


"JANUARY' 

Bv    H.    \V.    McVICKAR. 


XXIV   BITS 


OF 


VERS  DE  SOCIETE 

With  twelve  full-page  illustrations  by 

H.   IV.   McVICKAR 

Together   with    numerous    illustrations    by 
other   artists. 


KDITEl)    BY 

FREDERICK    A.    STOKES 

Third  Edition. 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK   A.   STOKES   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS. 


COPYRIGHT,  1890, 
BY  FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY. 


AA^X^S  •fTOwW 


CONTENTS. 


PAU  E 

FROM   "A  BALLAD  ON  A  WEDDING."      Sir  John  Suckling.    ...  I 

FROM  "THE  BELLE  OF  THE  BALL-ROOM."      Winthrop  .V.   Praed 3 

THE  SKATER  BELLE.      Samuel  Min turn  Peck 9 

THE  CONSTANT   LOVER.     Sir  John  Suckling.           .                           10 

MABEL'S  MUFF.     Frederick  Locker. ...  .15 

AN   EPISODE.      Waller  Learned. 16 

A  STREET  SKETCH.     (RONDEAU.)    /.  Ashby  Sterry 21 

A  KISS  IN  THE  RAIN.      Samuel  Minturn  Peck.         .                           22 

CUPID  AT  COURT.      Samuel  M  in  turn  Peck 27 

HER  REQUIREMENTS.     (RONDEAU.'     Frederick  A.  Stokes 29 

UNDER  THE  ROSE.     (TRIOLETS.)     Samuel  Mintum  Peck 33 

A  SWELL.     (BALLADE.)      Frank  Dempster  Sherman 35 

DOLLIE.      Samuel  Minturn  Peck. 39 

JULY  (VlRELAl   NOUVEAU).     Austin  Dobson 41 

ON  NEWPORT  BEACH.     (RONDEAU.)    //.   C.  Jiunner 47 

MY  MISTRESS'S  BOOTS.      Frederick   Locker. 4^ 

THE  "STAY-AT-HOME'S"   PLAINT.     George  A.  Baker.          ...  55 

A  VACATION  VILLANELLE.     Colsford  Dick 58 

ROTTEN  ROW.     Frederick  Locker 61 

FROM   "A  LETTER  OF  ADVICE.     FROM  Miss  MKPOKA  TKKYIUAS,  AT   PAH:  A,  10  Mi.- 

AKAMINTA  VAVASOTU,  IN  LONDON."      Winthrop  J/.  Praed.           .....  63 

A  COQUETTE.     (BALLADE.)     Frank  Dempster   Sherman 67 

TIME'S  REVENGE.       Walter  Learned. 69 

HER  CHINA  CUP.      (KoM>K.\r.)     Frank  Dempster  Sherman 73 

A  RONDEAU  TO  ETHEL.     Austin  Dotwn.                         75 


901156 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

The  editor  IMS  mitcb  pleasure  in  expressing  bis  thanks  to 
'{Mr.  H.  C.  ''B  n  nner,  ZMr.  Walter  Learned,  TJr.  Samuel  {Min- 
t n rn  'Peck,  and  (Mr.  Frank  'Dempster  Sherman,  for  their  courtesy 
in  granting  permission  for  the  use  of  their  verses. 

F.  A.  S. 

fl\C<ru'  York, 

October,  1890. 


FROM  "A  BALLAD  ON  A  WEDDING. 


HER  feet  beneath  her  petticoat, 
Like  little  mice,  stole  in  and  out, 
As  if  they  feared  the  light : 
But  O  !  she  dances  such  a  way ! 
No  sun  upon  an  Easter-day 
Is  half  so  line  a -sight. 


Her  cheeks  so  rare  a  white  was  on, 
No  daisy  makes  comparison  ; 

Who  sees  them  is  undone  ; 
For  streaks  of  red  were  mingled  there 
Such  as  are  on  a  Cath'rine  pear, 

The  side  that's  next  the  sun. 


FROM    "A    BALLAD    OX    A    WEDDING." 


Her  lips  were  red  ;  and  one  \vas  thin, 
Compar'd  to  that  was  next  her  chin, 

Some  bee  had  stung  it  newly  ; 
But,  Dick,  her  eyes  so  guard  her  face, 
I   durst  no  more  upon  them  gaze, 

Than  on  the  sun  in  July. 

Her  mouth  so  small  when  she  does  speak, 
Thou'dst  swear  her  teeth   her  words  did   break 

That  they  might  passage  get  ; 
But  she  so  handled  still  the  matter, 
They  came  as  good   as  ours,  or  better. 

And  are  not  spent  a  whit. 


Szr  Joint  Suckling. 


FROM  "THE  BELLE  OF  THE  BALL-ROOM." 


1SAVV  her  at  the  County  Ball  : 
There,  when  the  sounds  of  ilute  and  fiddle 
Gave  signal  sweet  in  that  old  hall 
Of  hands  across  and  down  the  middle, 
Hers  was  the  subtlest  spell  by  far 

Of  all  that  set  young  hearts  romancing  ; 
She  was  our  queen,  our  rose,  our  star  ; 

And  then  she  danced — O  Heaven,  her  dancing! 

Dark  was  her  hair,  her  hand  was  white  ; 

Hei     _>ice  was  exquisitely  tender; 
Her  eyes  were  full  of  liquid  light  ; 

I  never  saw  a  waist  so  slender ! 
Her  every  look,  her  every  smile, 

Shot  right  and  left  a  score  of  arrows ; 
I  thought  'twas  Venus  from  her  isle, 

And  wonder' d  where  she'd  left  her  sparrows. 

And  she  was  ilatter'd,  worshipp'd,  bored  ; 

Her  steps  were  watch'd,  her  dress  was  noted; 
Her  poodle  dog  was  quite  adored, 

Her  sayings  were  extremely  ([noted; 
She  laugh'd,  and  every  heart  was  glad, 

As  if  the  taxes  were  abolish'd  ; 
She  frown'd,  and  every  look  was  sail, 

As  if  the  Opera  were  demolish'd. 


FROM    "THE    BELLE    OF    THE    LALL-ROOM. 

She  smiled  un  many,  just  for  fun,— 
I  knew  that  there  was  nothing  in  it ; 

I  was  the  first — the  only  one 

Her  heart  had  thought  of  lor  a  minute. — 


I  knew  it,  for  she  told  me  so, 

In  phrase  which  was  divinely  moulded  ; 
She  wrote  a  charming  hand, — and  oh  ! 

How  sweetly  all  her  note:;  were  folded  ! 

Our  love  was  like  most  other  loves ; — 

A  little  glow,  a  little  shiver, 
A  rose-bud,  and  a  pair  of  gloves, 

And  "  Fly  not  yet" — upon  the  river  ; 


FROM    "THE    BELLE    OF    THE    BALL-ROOM." 

Some  jealousy  of  some  one's  heir, 

Some  hopes  of  dying  broken-hearted, 
A  miniature,  a  lock  of  hair, 

The  usual  vows, — and  then  we  parted. 

We  parted  ;  months  and  years  roll'd  by  ; 

We  met  again  four  summers  after: 
Our  parting  was  all  sob  and  sigh  ; 

Our  meeting  was  all  mirth  and  laughter: 
For  in  my  heart's  most  secret  cell 

There  had  been  many  other  lodgers  ; 
And    she  was  not  the  ball-room's  Belle, 

But    only — Mrs.  Something  Rogers  ! 

WintJirop  M.  Pracd. 


FEBRUARY' 


BY    H  .    \V .    M  c  V  I  C  K  A  R 


THE  SKATER  BELLE. 


ALONG  the  ice  I  see  her  fly 
With  moonlit  tresses  blown  awry, 
And  floating  from  her  twinkling  feet- 
Are  wafted  sounds  as  silvery  sweet 
As  April  winds  when  May  is  nigh. 

Is  it  a  Naiad  coy  and  shy  ? 
Or  can  it  be  the  Lorelei 

\Vho  lures  me  with  her  rare  deceit? 

It  is  the  hour  for  magic  meet ; 
Resist  the  spell,  'twere  vain  to  try. 

Her  beauty  thrills  the  earth  and  sky 
From  glowing  cheek  and  flashing  eye; 
And  as  she  wanders  fair  and  fleet 
The  spangled  branches  bend  to  greet 
And  wave  a  kiss  as  she  goes  by. 


Samite!  Mintnrn  Peck 


THE  CONSTANT  LOVER. 


OUT  upon  it,  I  have  lov'd 
Three  whole  days  together ; 
And  am  like  to  love  three  more,- 
If  it  prove  fair  weather. 

Time  shall  moult  away  his  wings, 

Ere  he  shall  discover 
In  the  whole  wide  world  again 

Sueh  a  constant  lover. 


THE    CONSTANT    LOVER. 


But  the  spite  on't  is,  no  praise 

Is  due  at  all  to  me ; 
Love  with  me  had  made  no  stays 

Had  it  any  been  but  she. 

Had  it  any  been  but  she, 

And  that  very  face, 
There  had  been  at  least  ere  this 

A  dozen  dozen  in  her  place  ! 


-Sir  John  Suckling. 


*"^^BBPI 


'MARCH' 

15 v    H.    \V.    McVICKAR. 


MABEL'S  MUFF. 

SHE'S  jealous  !     Does  it  grieve  me  ?     No  ! 
I'm  glad  to  see  my  Mabel  so, 
Carina  uiia  / 

Poor  Puss !     That  now  and  then  she  draws 
Conclusions,  not  without  a  cause, 
Is  my  idea. 

She  loves  ;  and  I'm  prepared  to  prove 
That  jealousy  is  kin  to  love 

In  constant  women. 
My  jealous  Pussy  cut  up  rough 
The  day  before  I  bought  her  muff 

With  sable  trimming. 

These  tearful  darlings  think  to  quell  us 
By  being  so  divinely  jealous  ; 

But  I  know  better. 

Ilillo  !     Who's  that  ?     A  damsel  !     Come, 
I'll  follow  : — no,  I  can't,  for  some 

One  else  has  met  her. 

What  fun  !      He  looks  "  a  lad  of  grace," 
She  holds  her  muff  to  hide  her  face  ; 

They  kiss, — The  Sly  Puss ! 
Hillo  !      Her  muff, — it's  trimm'd  with  sable! 
It's  like  the  muff  I  gave  to  Mabel  !  .  .  . 

Goodl-o-r-d,  SHE'S  MY  PUSS! 


Locker. 


v 


AN  EPISODE. 


IT  1 1  never  a  word  she  passed  me  by, 


With  never  a  look  or  sign 


She  silently  went  her  way,  and  I 
As  silently  went  on  mine. 


No  one  could  have  dreamed  who  saw  her  face, 

As  we  so  coldly  met, 
That  her  heart  was  touched  by  the  faintest  trace 

Of  memory  or  regret. 


AN    EPISODE. 


Nor  do  I  think  that  one  apart 

Who  watched  my  tranquil   brow, 
Would  have  guessed  that  the  memory  stirred  mv  heart 

Of  a  faithless,  broken  vow. 

And  they  need  not  have  guessed  or  wondered,  you  see. 

For  this  was  the  reason  why— 
I  didn't  know  her,  and  she  didn't  know  me, 

And  so — she  passed  me  by. 


Walter  Learned. 


'APRIL' 

Hv    H.    \V.    McVICKAR. 


A  STREET  SKETCH. 

(RONDEAU.) 

UPON  the  Kerb,  a  maiden  neat— 
Her  hazel  eyes  are  passing  sweet- 
There  stands  and  waits  in  dire  distress 
The  muddy  road  is  pitiless, 
And  'busses  thunder  down  the  street ! 

A  snowy  skirt,  all  frills  and  pleat ; 
Two  tiny,  well-shod,  dainty  feet 

Peep  out,  beneath  her  kilted  dress, 
Upon  the  Kerb. 

She'll  first  advance  and  then  retreat, 
Half-frightened  by  a  hansom  fleet. 

She  looks  around,  I  must  confess, 
With  marvellous  coquettishness !— 
Then  droops  her  eyes  and  looks  discreet, 

Upon  the  Kerb  ! 


J.  .  Isliby  Merry. 


A  KISS  IN  THE  RAIN. 


ONE  stormy  morn  I  chanced  to  meet 
A  lassie  in  the  town  ; 
Her  locks  were  like  the  ripened  wheat, 

Her  laughing  eyes  were  brown. 
I  watched  her  as  she  tripped  along 

Till  madness  filled  my  brain, 
And  then — and  then — I  know 

'twas  wrong — 
I  kissed  her  in  the  rain  ! 


With  rain-drops  shining  on  her  cheek, 

Like  dew-drops  on  a  rose, 
The  little  lassie  strove  to  speak 

My  boldness  to  oppose  ; 
She  strove  in  vain,  and  quivering 

Her  finger  stole  in  mine  ; 
And  then  the  birds  began  to  sing, 

The  sun  besjan  to  shine. 


Oh,  let  the  clouds  grow  dark  above, 
My  heart  is  light  below  ; 

'Tis  always  summer  when  we  love, 
However  winds  mav  blow  ; 


A    KISS    IN    THE    RAIN. 


And  I'm  as  proud  as  any  prince, 

All  honors  I  disdain  : 
She  says  I  am  her  rain  bean  since 

I  kissed  her  in  the  rain. 


Samuel  Minturn  Peck 


'MAY' 

BY    H.    W.    McVICKAR. 


CUPID  AT  COURT. 


YOUNG  Cupid  strung  his  bow  one  day, 
And  sallied  out  for  sport ; 
As  country  hearts  were  easy  prey 
Odds  Darts  !  he  went  to  court. 


Of  all  that  wore  the  puff  and  patch, 

Belinda  led  the  fair: 
With  falhala,  and  fan  to  match, 

I  trow  she  made  him  stare ! 


28  CUPID    AT    COURT. 


"  Oho!  "  he  cried,  and  quickly  drexv 

His  bow  upon  the  sly  ; — 
but  though  he  pierced  her  bosom  through, 

She  never  breathed  a  sigh  ! 

This  was  a  turn,  beyond  a  doubt, 

That  filled  him  with  amaze, 
And  so  he  sought  his  mother  out, 

With  tear-bewildered  gaze. 

"  You  silly  boy,"  Dame  Venus  said, 
"  Whv  did  you  waste  your  art  ? 

Go  clip  your  curls  and  hide  your  head, — 
Belinda  has  no  heart  !  " 


Samuel  Minturn  Peck. 


HER    REQUIREMENTS. 

(RONDEAU.) 

A   LOVER'S  sighs,  said  laughing  Belle, 
Must  with  such  pain  and  ardor  swell 
That  I  shall  fear  his  life  will  end, 
Unless  a  fav'ring  ear  I  lend. 
Ah,  sighs,  not  words,  his  love  must  tell  ! 

And  they  must  bind  me  with  a  spell, 
And  must  he  deep  and  sad  as  well,— 
All  this,  if  /  am  to  commend 
A  lover's  eyes. 

Yet  it  will  all  the  charm  dispel, 
And  rin<£  at  once  love's  funeral  knell, 

O 

If  he's  loo  small  with  me  to  wend  ; 
For  sighs  and  eyes  can  not  amend, 
Nor  better,  by  an  inch  or  ell, 
A  lover's  size. 


Frederick  A.  Stokes. 


M 


J 


"  K.™ 

> 

^ 
'* 


' 


'JUNE' 

BY    H.    \V.    McVlCKAR 


UNDER  THE   ROSE. 

(TRIOLETS.) 
in-:  (aside\. 

IF  I  should  steal  a  little-  kiss, 
Oh,  would  she  weep,  I  wonder? 
I  tremble  at  the  thought  of  bliss, 
If  I  should  steal  a  little  kiss  ! 
Such  pouting  lips  would  never  miss 

The  dainty  bit  of  plunder; 
If  I  should  steal  a  little  kiss, 

Oh,  would  she  weep,  I  wonder  ? 


SHE 


(aside}. 


He  longs  to  steal  a  kiss  of  mine — 

He  may,  if  he'll  return  it : 
If  I  can  read  the  tender  sign, 
He  longs  to  steal  a  kiss  of  mine  , 
"  In  love  and  war" — you  know  the  line 

Why  cannot  he  discern  it  ? 
He  longs  to  steal  a  kiss  of  mine- 
He  may  if  he'll  return  it. 

HOT i-i  {five  minutes  later)* 

A  little  kiss  when  no  one  sees, 

Where  is  the  impropriety  ? 
How  sweet  amid  the  birds  and  bees 


34 


UNDER    THE    ROSE. 


A  little  kiss  when  no  one  sees  ! 
Nor  is  it  wrong,  the  world  agrees, 


If  taken  with  sobriety. 
A  little  kiss  when  no  one  sees, 
Where  is  the  impropriety  ? 


Samuel  Minturn  Peck 


A  SWELL. 
(BALLADE.) 

HIS  forehead  he  fringes  and  decks 
With  carefully  cut  Montagues  ; 
He  angles  his  arms  semi-X, 
And  dresses  in  delicate  hues  ; 
His  haunts  are  the  rich  avenues; 


Staccato  is  somewhat  his  gait ; 

It  takes  hut  a  wink  to  amuse 
His  sadly  impoverished  pate. 


A    SWELL. 

Ills  costumes  are  covered  with  checks  ; 

He  travels  in  taper-toed  shoes 
Through  Vanity  Fair,  there  to  vex 

The  silly  young  heart  that  he  wooes  ; 

He's  clever  with  cards  and  with  cues, 
And  banters  with  Fortune  and  Fate  : 

Alas,  that  the  lad  cannot  lose 
His  sadly  impoverished  pate  ! 

He's  fond  of  the  frivolous  sex  ; 

His  light  conversation  he  strews 
With  "  toffy," — aught  else  would  perplex 

The  topic  his  fancy  pursues  ; 

The  cud  of  contentment  he  chews, 
While  women  and  wealth  on  him  wait  ; 

And  nature  with  nothing  endues 
His  sadly  impoverished  pate. 

ENVOY. 

Fair  princesses,  all  who  peruse 
This  ballad,  beware  ere  too  late, 

Lest  Opulence  hear  you  abuse 
His  sadly  impoverished  pate  ! 


Frank  Dempster  Sherman. 


/' 

ft 


"JULY' 

I'.Y    H.    \V.    Me  VIC  K  A  R. 


DOLLIE. 


SH  E  sports  a  witching  gown 
With  a  ruffle  up  and  down 
On  the  skirt. 
She  is  gentle,  she  is  shy; 
But  there's  mischief  in  her  eye, 
She's  a  flirt  ! 

She  displays  a  tiny  glove, 
And  a  dainty  little  love 

Of  a  shoe; 

And  she  wears  her  hat  a-tilt 
Over  bangs  that  never  wilt 

In  the  dew. 

'Tis  rumored  chocolate  creams 
Are  the  fabric  of  her  dreams — 

But  enough  ! 
I  know  beyond  a  doubt 
That  she  carries  them  about 

In  her  muff. 

With  her  dimples  and  her  curls 
She  exasperates  the  girls 

Past  belief: 

They  hint  that  she's  a  cat, 
And  delightful  things  like  that 

In  their  grief. 


DOLLIE. 


It  is  shocking,  I  declare! 
But  what  does  Dollie  care 

When  the  beaux 
Come  flocking  to  her  feet 
Like  the  bees  around  a  s\veet 

Little  rose? 


Samuel  Minturn  Peck. 


G 


JULY. 

(VIRKLAI     NOTVKAU.) 

OOD-BVE  to  the  Town  !— good-bye  ! 
Hurrah  !  for  the  sea  and  the  sky  ! 


In  the  street  the  flower-girls  cry  ; 
In  the  street  the  water-carts  ply  ; 
And  a  fluter,  with  features  a-wry, 
Plays  fitfully,  "  Scots,  wha  hae"- 
And  the  throat  of  that  fluU-r  is  dry; 
Good-bye  to  the  Town  ! — smod-byc ! 


42  JULY. 


And  over  the  roof-tops  nigh 

Comes  a  waft  like  a  dream  of  the  May ; 

And  a  lady-bird  lit  on  my  tie  ; 

And  a  cock-chafer  came  with  the  tray; 

And  a  butterfly  (no  one  knows  why) 

Mistook  my  Aunt's  cap  for  a  spray  ; 

And  "  next  door"  and  "  over  the  way" 

The  neighbors  take  wing  and  fly : 

Hurrah  !  for  the  sea  and  the  sky  ! 

To  Buxton,  the  waters  to  try,— 

To  Buxton  goes  old  Mrs.  Bligh  ; 

And  the  Captain  to  Homburg  and  play 

Will  carry  his  cane  and  his  eye ; 

And  even  Miss  Morgan  Lefay 

Is  flitting — to  far  Peckham  Rye  ; 

And  my  Grocer  has  gone — in  a  "  Shay," 

And  my  Tailor  has  gone — in  a  "  Fly;" — • 

Good-bye  to  the  Town  ! — good-bye  ! 

And  it's  O  for  the  sea  and  the  sky  ! 
And  it's  O  for  the  boat  and  the  bay  ! 
For  the  white  foam  whirling  by, 
And  the  sharp,  salt  edge  of  the  spray  ! 
For  the  wharf  where  the  black  nets  fry, 
And  the  wrack  and  the  oarvveed  sway  ! 
For  the  stroll  when  the  moon  is  high 
To  the  nook  by  the  Flag-house  gray  ! 
For  the  risus  ab  angulo  shy 
From  the  Some-one  we  designate  "  Di  ! " 
For  the  moment  of  silence, — the  sigh  ! 
"  How  I  dote  on  a  Moon  !  "     "  So  do  I  !  " 
For  the  token  we  snatch  on  the  sly 


JULY.  43 


(With  nobody  there  to  say  Fie  !) 
Hurrah  !  for  the  sea  and  the  sky  ! 

So  Phillis,  the  fawn-footed,  hie 
For  a  hansom.     Ere  close  of  the  day 
Between  us  a  "  world"  must  lie — 
Good-bye  to  the  Town  ! — GOOD-BYK  ! 
Hurrah  !  for  the  sea  and  the  sky! 


Austin  Dobson. 


AUGUST' 


BY    H.    \V.    MrYICKAR 


ON    NEWPORT    BEACH 

(RONDEAU.) 

ON  Newport  beach  there  ran  right  merrily, 
In  dainty  navy  blue  clothed  to  the  knee, 
Thence  to  the  foot  in  white  an  nature!, 
A  little  maid.     Fair  was  she,  truth  to  tell, 
As  Oceanus'  child  Callirrhoe. 


/VRarnsie 

__  *   ^  .••!•• 


4S  ON    NEWPORT    BEACH. 

In  the  soft  sand  lay  one  small  shell,  its  wee 
Keen  scallops  tinct  with  faint  hues,  such  as  be 
In  girlish  cheeks.     In  some  old  storm  it  fell 
On  Newport  Beach. 

There  was  a  bather  of  the  species  he, 

Who  saw  the  little  maid  go  toward  the  sea  ; 

Rushing  to  help  her  through  the  billowy  swell, 
He  set  his  sole  upon  the  little  shell, 
And  heaped  profanely  phrased  obloquy 

On  Newport  Beach. 


//.    C.  Jlunncr 


MY  MISTRESS'S  BOOTS. 

S/it'  htis  iltiiu-iiig  t-yes  and  ruby  lips, 
Delightful  boots — and  away  she  skips. 

THEY  nearly  strike  me  dumb,- 
I  tremble  when  they  come 
Pit-a-pat : 

This  palpitation  means 
These  Boots  are  Geraldine's — 
Think  of  that ! 

4* 

O,  where  did  hunter  win 
So  delicate  a  skin 

For  her  feet  ? 
You  lucky  little  kid, 
You  perish'd,  so  you  did, 

For  my  Sweet. 

The  faery  stitching  gleams 
On  the  sides,  and  in  the  seams, 

And  reveals 

That  the  Pixies  were  the  wags 
Who  tipt  these  funny  tags, 

And  these  heels. 

What  soles  to  charm  an  elf  ! — 
Had  Crusoe,  sick  of  self, 
Chanced  to  view 


MY    MISTRESS'S    BOOTS. 


One  printed  near  the  tide, 
O,  how  hard  he  would  have  tried 
For  the  two ! 


For  Gerry's  debonair, 
And  innocent  and  fair 

As  a  rose ; 

She's  an  Angel  in  a  frock, 
She's  an  Angel  with  a  clock 

To  her  hose! 

The  simpletons  who  squeeze 
Their  pretty  toes  to  please 
Mandarins, 


MY    MISTRESS'S   BOOTS. 


Would  positively  flinch 
From  venturing  to  pinch 
Geraldine's. 

Cinderella's  lefts  and  rights 
To  Geraldine's  were  frights: 

And  I  trow 

The  Damsel,  deftly  shod 
Has  dutifully  trod 

Until  now. 

Come,  Gerry,  since  it  suits 
Such  a  pretty  Puss  (in  Boots) 

These  to  don, 

Set  your  dainty  hand  awhile 
On  my  shoulder,  Dear,  and  I'll 

Put  them  on. 


Frederick  Locker. 


'SEPTEMBER" 

BY    H.    W.    McVICKAR. 


THE     'STAY-AT-HOME'S"    PLAINT. 

THE  Spring  has  grown  to  Summer; 
The  sun  is  fierce  and  high  ; 
The  city  shrinks,  and  withers 
Beneath  the  burning  sky. 
Ailantus  trees  are  fragrant, 

And  thicker  shadows  cast, 
Where  berry-girls,  with  voices  shrill, 
And  watering  carts  go  past. 

In  offices  like  ovens 

We  sit  without  our  coats ; 
Our  cuffs  are  moist  and  shapeless 

No  collars  bind  our  throats. 
We  carry  huge  umbrellas 

On  Broad  Street  and  on  Wall, 
Oh,  how  thermometers  go  up  ! 

And,  oh,  how  stocks  do  fall ! 
Along  the  scented  hedge-rows, 

Among  the  green  old  trees, 
Are  blooming  city  faces 

'Neath  rosy-lined  pongees. 

They're  cottaging  at  Newport ; 

They're  bathing  at  Cape  May; 
In  Saratoga's  ball-rooms 

They  dance  the  hours  away. 


THE    "STAY-AT  HOME'S"    PLAINT. 


Their  voices  through  the  quiet 

Of  haunted  Catskill  break  ; 
Or  rouse  those  dreamy  dryads, 

The  nymphs  of  Echo  Lake. 

The  hands  we've  led  through  Germans, 

And  squeezed,  perchance,  of  yore, 
Now  deftly  grasp  the  bridle, 

The  mallet,  and  the  oar. 
The  eyes  that  wrought  our  ruin 
On  other  men  look  down  ; 

We're  but  the  broken  play 
things 

They've    left    behind    in 
town. 

The  nights  are  full  of  mu 
sic, 

Melodious  Teuton  troops 
Beguile  us,  calmly  smoking, 
On  balconies  and  stoops. 
With  eyes  half-shut,  and  dreamy, 

We  watch  the  fire-flies'  spark, 
And  image  far-off  faces, 
As  day  dies  into  dark. 

The  avenue  is  lonely, 

The  houses  choked  with  dust ; 
The  shutters,  barred  and  bolted, 

The  bell-knobs  all  a-rust. 
No  blossom-like  Spring  dresses, 

No  faces  young  and  fair, 
From  "Dickel's"  to  'The  Brunswick," 

No  promenader  there. 


THE    "STAY-AT-HOME'S"    PLAINT.  57 

The  girls  we  used  to  walk  with 

Are  far  away,  alas  ! 
The  feet  that  kissed  its  pavement 

Are  deep  in  country  grass. 
Oh,  happy  Gran'dame  Nature, 

Whose  wandering  children  come 
To  light  with  happy  faces 

The  dear  old  mother-home, 
Be  tender  with  our  darlings, 

Each  merry  maiden  bears 
Such  love  and  longing  with  her — 

Men's  lives  are  wrapped  in  theirs. 

George  A.  tBaker. 


A   VACATION    VILLANELLE. 


0    HALCYON   hours  of  happy  holiday, 
When    frets    of  function  and  of  fashion 
flee 

(Sweet  is  the  sunshine,  soft  the  summer's  sway). 
Ye  whisper  "  welcome"  to  our  wandering  way, 

And  give  a  gracious  greeting  to  our  glee, 
O  halcyon  hours  of  happy  holiday  ! 

Or  pacing  prairies  in  pursuit  of  prey, 
Or  sailing  silent  on  a  southern  sea 

(Sweet  is  the  sunshine,  soft  the  summer's  sway), 

Or  gliding  giddy  down  some  glacier  gray, 
Or  joining  in  a  German  jubilee, 

O  halcyon  hours  of  happy  holiday  ! 


We  breathe  such  buoyant  bliss  that  we  betray 
Our  sportive  spirits  strangely — sans  souci 

Sweet  is  the  sunshine,  soft  the  summer's  sway, 

And  dear  the  dreaming  of  these  days  distraits 
We  find  we  ye,  so  faineants  and  free, 

O  halcyon  hours  of  happy  holiday  ! 

Cotsford  Dick. 


"OCTOBER' 


BY    H.    \V.    McVICKAR. 


ROTTEN   ROW. 


I    HOPE  I'm  fond  of  much  that  s  good, 
As  well  as  much  that's  gay  ; 
I'd  like  the  country  if  I  could  ; 

I  love  the  Park  in  May  : 
And  when  I  ride  in  Rotten  Row, 
I  wonder  why  they  call'd  it  so. 


A  lively  scene  on  turf  and  road  ; 

The  crowd  is  bravely  drest  : 
The  Ladies  Mile  has  overflow'd, 

The  chairs  are  in  request : 
The  nimble  air,  so  soft,  so  clear, 
Can  hardly  stir  a  ringlet  here. 

I'll  halt  beneath  those  pleasant  trees — 

And  drop  my  bridle-rein, 
And,  quite  alone,  indulge  at  ease 
The  philosophic  vein  : 

I'll  moralize  on  all  I  see — 
Yes,  it  was  all  arranged  for  me ! 


Forsooth,  and  on  a  livelier  spot 
The  sunbeam  never  shines. 

Fair  ladies  here  can  talk  and  trot 
With  statesmen  and  divines  : 

Could  I  have  chosen,  I'd  have  been 

A  Duke,  a  Beauty,  or  a  Dean. 


62  ROTTEN    ROW. 


What  grooms  !  What  gallant  gentlemen  ! 

What  well-appointed  hacks  ! 
What  glory  in  their  pace,  and  then 

What  Beauty  on  their  backs  ! 
My  Pegasus  would  never  flag 
If  weighted  as  my  Lady's  nag. 

But  where  is  now  the  courtly  troop 
That  once  rode  laughing  by  ? 

I  miss  the  curls  of  Cantilupe, 
The  laugh  of  Lady  Di  : 

They  all  could  laugh  from  night  to  morn, 

And  Time  has  laugh'd  them  all  to  scorn. 

I  then  could  frolic  in  the  van 
With  dukes  and  dandy  earls  ; 

Then  I  was  thought  a  nice  young  man 
By  rather  nice  young  girls  ! 

I've  half  a  mind  to  join  Miss  Browne, 

And  try  one  canter  up  and  down. 

Ah,  no — I'll  linger  here  awhile, 

And  dream  of  days  of  yore  ; 
For  me  bright  eyes  have  lost  the  smile, 

The  sunny  smile  they  wore  :— 
Perhaps  they  say,  what  I'll  allow, 
That  I'm  not  quite  so  handsome  now. 


Frederick  Lw.kcr 


FROM     'A   LETTER   OF   ADVICE. 

From  J//A.V  Mt'i/(»-ci    Trc^'Hinn,   at  I\niua,  to  J//.v.v  slramiiita   \\ri'usnnr  in  London. 

YOU  tell  me  you're  promised  a  lover, 
My  own  Araminta,  next  week  ; 
Why  cannot  my  fancy  discover 
The  hue  of  his  coat  and  his  cheek? 
Alas  !  if  he  look  like  another, 

A  vicar,  a  banker,  a  beau, 
Be  deaf  to  your  father  and  mother, 
My  own  Araminta,  say  "  No!" 

O  think  of  our  favorite  cottage, 

And  think  of  our  dear  Lalla  Rookh  ! 
How  we  shared  with  the  milkmaids  their  pottage, 

And  drank  of  the  stream  from  the  brook  ; 
How  fondly  our  loving  lips  falter'd 

"  What  further  can  grandeur  bestow  ?" 
My  heart  is  the  same  ; — is  yours  alter'd  ? 

My  own  Araminta,  say  "  No  !" 

If  he  wears  a  top-boot  in  his  wooing, 

If  he  comes  to  you  riding  a  cob, 
If  he  talks  of  his  baking  or  brewing, 

If  he  puts  up  his  feet  on  the  hob, 
If  he  ever  drinks  port  after  dinner, 

If  his  brow  or  his  breeding  is  low, 
If  he  calls  himself  "  Thompson"  or  "  Skinner," 

My  own  Araminta,  say  "  No  !" 


A    LETTER    OF    ADVICE. 


If  he  studies  the  news  in  the  papers 

While  you  are  preparing  the  tea, 
If  he  talks  of  the  damps  or  the  vapors 

\Vhile  moonlight  lies  soft  on  the  sea, 
If  he's  sleepy,  while  you  are  capricious, 

If  he  has  not  a  muscial  "  Oh  !" 
If  he  does  not  call  Werther  delicious, — 

My  own  Araminta,  say  "  No  !" 

If  he  speaks  of  a  tax  or  a  duty, 

If  he  does  not  look  grand  on  his  knees, 
If  he's  blind  to  a  landscape  of  beauty, 

Hills,  valleys,  rocks,  waters,  and  trees, 
If  he  dotes  not  on  desolate  towers, 

If  he  likes  not  to  hear  the  blasts  blow, 
If  he  knows  not  the  language  of  flowers, — 

My  own  Araminta,  say  "  No  !" 

He  must  walk — like  a  god  of  old  story 

Come  down  from  the  home  of  his  rest, 
He  must  smile — like  the  sun  in  his  glory 

On  the  buds  he  loves  ever  the  best  ; 
And  oh  !    from  its  ivory  portal 

Like  music  his  soft  speech  must  flow ! — 
If  he  speak,  smile,  or  walk  like  a  mortal, 
My  own  Araminta,  say  "  No  !" 


W'inthrop  M.  Pracd. 


NOVEMBER" 


15  Y     II.    \V.     McVICKAK. 


A  COQUETTE. 


(BALLADE.) 

SHE  wears  a  most  bewitching  bang,— 
Gold  curls  made  captive  in  a  net ; 
Her  dresses  with  precision  hang ; 
Her  hat  observes  the  stylish  set ; 
She  has  a  poodle  for  a  pet, 
And  drives  a  dashing  drag  and  pony : 

I  know  it,  though  we've  never  met, — 
I've  seen  her  picture  by  Sarony. 


Her  phrases  all  are  fraught  with  slang,         <|^j£> 

The  very  latest  she  can  get  ;  -^r 

She  sings  the  songs  that  Patience  sang, 
Can  whistle  airs  from  "  Olivette," 
And,  in  a  waltz,  perhaps,  might  let 
You  squeeze  her  hand,  with    gems    all- 
stony  : 

I  know  it,  though  we've  never  met, — 
I've  seen  her  picture  by  Sarony. 

Her  heart  has  never  felt  love's  pang, 

Nor  known  a  momentary  fret  ; 
Want  never  wounds  her  with  his  fang; 

She  likes  to  run  Papa  in  debt  ; 

She'll  smoke  a  slender  cigarette 
S?tb  rosa  with  a  favored  crony  : 

I  know  it,  though  we've  never  met,- — 
I've  seen  her  picture  by  Sarony. 


68  A   COQUETTE. 


ENVOY. 


Princes,  beware  this  gay  coquette  ! 

She  has  no  thoughts  of  matrimony  : 
I  know  it,  though  we've  never  met, — 

I've  seen  her  picture  by  Sarony. 


.Frank  IJaupster  Sherman. 


TIME'S  REVENGE. 


VI I  EN  I  was  ten  and  she  fifteen— 
Ah,  me,  how  fair  I  thought  her  ! 
She  treated  with  disdainful  mien 
The  homage  that  I  brought  her. 
And,  in  a  patronizing  way, 
Would  of  my  shy  advances  say  : 
"  It's  really  quite  absurd,  you  see  ; 
lie's  very  much  too  young  for  me.'* 

I'm  twenty  now,  she  twenty-five— 
Well,  well !  how  old  she's  growing  ! 

I  fancy  that  my  suit  might  thrive 
If  pressed  again  ;  but  owing 

To  great  discrepancy  in  age, 

Her  marked  attentions  don't  engage 
My  young  affections,  for,  you  see, 
She's  really  quite  too  old  for  me. 


Walter  Learned. 


'DECEMBER" 

BY    H.    W.   McVICKAR. 


H 


HER  CHINA  CUP. 

(RONDEAU.) 

ER  china  cup  is  white  and  thin  ; 
A  thousand  times  her  heart  has  been 
Made  merry  at  its  scalloped  brink  ; 
And  in  the  bottom,  painted  pink; 

A  dragon  greets  her  with  a  grin. 


72  HER    CHINA    CUP. 


The  brim  her  kisses  loves  to  win  ; 
The  handle  is  a  manikin, 

Who  spies  the  foes  that  chip  or  chink 
Her  china  cup. 

Muse,  tell  me  if  it  he  a  sin  : 

I  watch  her  lift  it  past  her  chin 

Up  to  the  scarlet  lips  and  drink 

The  Oolong  draught,  somehow  I  think 

I'd  like  to  be  the  dragon  in 

Her  china  cup. 

Frank  Dempster  Sherman. 


A  RONDEAU  TO  ETHEL 


IN  teacup-times  !"     The  style  of  dress 
Would  suit  your  beauty,  I  confess ; 
BELixDA-like,  the  patch  you'd  wear; 
I  picture  you  with  powdered  hair, — 
You'd  make  a  charming  Shepherdess  ! 


And  I —  no  doubt — could  well  express 
SIR  PLUME'S  complete  conceitediu-^. 

Could  poise  a  clouded  cane  with  care 
"  In  teacup-time^  ' 


74  A   RONDEAU    TO    ETHEL. 

The  parts  would  fit  precisely — yes  : 
We  should  achieve  a  huge  success  ! 
You  should  disdain  and  I  despair, 
With  quite  the  true  Augustan  air; 
But  .  .  .  could  I  love  you  more,  or  less,- 
"  In  teacup-times?" 


Austin  Dobson. 


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